At Least
by ReadingWhiz89
Summary: [Animeverse] Despite himself, Wolfwood couldn’t help but notice that, upon looking more closely, her eyes were very blue, almost clear cut in their unsettling frankness. Wolfwood x Milly. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: Trigun is the property of the almighty Yasuhiro Nightow. I am merely borrowing two of his creations so be not of the suing me, please!

A/N: Well, since I've had several people ask/challenge me to write something like this, here it is! 'Tis my first attempt at Milly/Wolfwood, and it is my tribute to the errant priest and his big girl. This fic is dedicated to two of my fellow RP buddies, nicholasdwolfwood and themis56. Visit us all sometime at Trigun Tears of War (link in my profile)!

My thanks to my awesome betas, Spicy-Obsession and nicholasdwolfwood (who also helped with the "researching" part of this story)! And now, on to the fic (which is set between episodes 22 and 23)!

* * *

_**At Least**_

_Goddamn suns…_

Wolfwood pushed his sunglasses a bit further up the bridge of his nose, glaring across the desert through the darkened lenses. The twin suns were already trailing down towards the horizon line, creating a golden-red glare that reflected off the sand dunes. He supposed he should be grateful that he had sunglasses at all, but right now, Wolfwood was too irritable to think about that.

He had left Keebas City some hours ago, not bothering to wait for Vash and the girls to come along, deciding to ride his Angelina as opposed to spending several hours in the car with that…broomhead. Wolfwood didn't want to hear what Vash had to say. Not only that, but he knew that if the spikey-haired idiot said one more word to him about what Wolfwood _should_ have done regarding the demon child, he'd punch the guy again.

Quite obviously, Wolfwood was in a foul mood, and not just because he'd smoked his last cigarette about three hours ago and was starting to crave more nicotine. He'd saved Vash's sorry ass for the umpteenth time, and _still_ the bastard insisted upon preaching his no-killing policy. It drove him nuts every time Vash brought it up, not only because it couldn't be done but because it made _his_ job that much harder. Guide and babysitter, that was his mission. That was the assignment he had been given. But, it was more than that now, though, wasn't it?

And that was the problem right there. Wolfwood wasn't supposed to care what happened to Needle Noggin beyond what he'd been ordered to do. But dammit, the guy was a friend to him now, sort of like a brother. It wasn't supposed to be like that, but it was. And yet, Wolfwood had been hanging around with Vash so long that he felt like he was being smothered with goofball's ideals. He needed some time to think, some time alone to figure out just what the hell he was supposed to be doing. Too bad he hadn't made much progress yet.

_Shit…_

"Mmm, more pudding on the side…"

Wolfwood glanced over his shoulder, greeted by the sight of Milly Thompson slumped over behind him, her head on his shoulder, her arms loosely about his waist. She'd been there for a while, having fallen asleep on the way. He didn't know exactly _why_ he had allowed her to come with him, but there she was.

Actually, he _did_ know. Milly herself had insisted upon coming with him. He had told her flat out "no," but then she had argued that traveling in the desert alone wasn't a good idea, citing the incident when they'd found him on the way to May City. Finding himself unable to get out of it, Wolfwood had acquiesced. Vash was taking Meryl, and they were all going to meet up at Carcasses. He grinned wryly at the thought of Vash being alone with Meryl for hours at a time. Needle Noggin was so blind sometimes, in more ways than one.

Looking away, Wolfwood turned his attention back to the task at hand, namely driving. Wind ruffled his hair, the temperature of it somehow a fine line between warm and cool. Grudgingly, he had to admit that the desert looked almost picturesque from where he was sitting now. Almost.

_Oh great._

The first of the suns had already begun to sink below the horizon, and Wolfwood didn't want to be driving in the dark. Looking around, he spotted a cluster of rocks about a hundred or so yarz off and headed for them. He didn't feel comfortable with stopping since he knew that Knives's henchmen could be anywhere. Still, hopefully Vash and Meryl would be fine on their own for one night.

Wolfwood slowed down, the engine rumbling as he pulled into the niche of rocks. It was a bit cramped, but it would do. Then, the very moment he turned the power off, the bike coughed violently, sputtering for a moment before dying. At that moment, Wolfwood would have liked nothing better than to reduce the piece of crap to shrapnel.

"Shit!"

"Mr. Priest…? What's the matter?"

Wolfwood felt the pressure on his shoulder ease off as Milly sat up behind him, bleary-eyed and yawning softly. He muttered a bit under his breath before dismounting, bending down next to the motorcycle, waving wisps of smoke away with one hand, his eyes burning slightly.

"What happened?" Milly asked, kneeling down next to him, her expression quizzical.

His temper rising again, Wolfwood sat down hard on the sand, tinkering with it for a moment. If the thing died on him now, they were absolutely screwed. He had purposely taken a different route to Carcasses, not wanting to coincidentally run into Vash. If he couldn't fix it, they would be stuck here for who knew how long. Feeling agitated, Wolfwood pulled out his pack of cigarettes and struck a match, lighting one as he took a long drag on it, the withdrawal easing somewhat.

"Mr. Priest?"

He sighed, standing slowly as he brushed himself off. "Looks like the engine's overheated. We'll have to wait 'til morning to see if it's shot to hell or not."

Milly nodded, stretching a little. "Well, since we'll be here for awhile, we might as well set up camp!" she said.

Wolfwood nodded, not bothering to reply. He rummaged a bit through their things, taking out a couple of meal bars, a water canteen, a pot, coffee, and kindle. It would be a plain meal for them tonight. He didn't want to draw any unwanted attention to them, especially not at this juncture, but Wolfwood supposed a small fire wouldn't hurt. They were enclosed by rocks, after all.

In the meantime, Milly brought out their bed rolls. The suns hadn't set yet, but she obviously knew that they should go to sleep when darkness fell so they could get up bright and early. She didn't lay them out, though. Instead, she sat down in the sand nearby, just watching him as he cleared the area for a fire.

The fact that Milly wasn't talking took a little bit of time to register in Wolfwood's mind. Still, when it did, he paused, looking at her. She was twiddling her thumbs a little and staring down at her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap. He blinked, turning away again, his brow furrowed.

He'd finished arranging the kindle so he struck a match, coaxing the flame to life carefully. When he was done, Wolfwood poured some water into the pot. Then, he felt her tap him lightly on the shoulder.

Milly smiled. "I'll do that."

She pried the handle from his fingers gently and sat down across from him, busying herself with making the coffee. He watched her in silence, unable to think of anything to say. There really wasn't much to say, was there?

_What the hell am I doing here?_

Wolfwood grimaced, flicking his already burned-out cigarette away before lighting another one, balancing it carefully between his teeth. Shifting every now and then, Wolfwood felt jumpy. Unable to sit still, he stood up and began to pace about, shoving his hands in his pockets. His mind was on overload, a million different possibilities and worries all shoving themselves in his face. It was goddamn irritating.

"Mr. Priest, the coffee's done."

Forcing himself to sit down, Wolfwood accepted the steaming mug Milly handed to him, muttering a brief "thanks" before leaning back against a stone, one odd mix of cigarette smoke and black coffee wafting up his nose. He sipped at the coffee mutely, barely aware that Milly had sat down next to him. Glancing at her briefly, he couldn't help but notice with some surprise that she was also drinking it black.

"You drink black coffee?"

Milly jumped a little, startled. "Oh…yes." She smiled brightly at him, and he marveled a little at how easily she _did_ smile. "Back home, my brothers always used to drink it black, and sugar was kind of scarce so I just got used to drinking it like this."

"I see…"

"So, did you have any brothers and sisters, Mister Priest?"

He closed his eyes, resting his head against the cool, hard surface behind him. "No. I grew up in an orphanage."

The moment those words slipped out of his mouth, Wolfwood's gut twisted slightly. It was a sort of true, he supposed. It wasn't an outright lie, but he still didn't like it. He was getting sick of this deception he was living, but he kept on doing it for the kids. Always for the kids.

Milly looked at him, her eyes wide. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

Wolfwood was used to this sort of thing by now. Milly's reaction had been almost virtually identical to what most others said when he told them he was an orphan (which wasn't very often). It was a touchy subject by most standards, and sometimes he felt annoyed when someone brought it up. Other times he just brushed it off. But, more and more, he recently found himself just sitting and thinking about it. It was kind of odd.

"But then…that just means that you had a whole _lot_ of brothers and sisters, doesn't it?"

_What?_ He stared at her, somewhat bemused by her mixed expression, apologetic and cheerful at the same time. "Never looked at it that way before," he said slowly. "I guess you're right, though."

Milly grinned. "You see? You're not as alone as you think you are, huh?"

He stared at her. _How does she do that?_

"What?" she asked, seeing the odd look on his face.

"Nothing," he assured her, managing to crack a smile. "Here," he said, handing her a few meal bars. "They're not much, but they should tide us over until tomorrow…"

_When we get to Carcasses_, he finished to himself, barely hearing her words of thanks.

He grimaced at the thought of it, not really knowing why. He'd been ordered to guide Vash there for some reason, but Wolfwood hadn't been told exactly _why_. What was the point of going there besides having Vash see his brother's name scrawled in blood in the middle of the town square? Nibbling a bit on one of the meal bars, he suddenly lost his appetite.

"Hey, hey. You have to take _big_ bites!" Milly scolded, pointing at his half-eaten meal bar.

Wolfwood grinned crookedly. "Sorry, Big Girl. I'm just not feeling that hungry tonight."

"Oh! Are you sick?"

She felt his forehead, and Wolfwood was too taken aback to speak for a moment. Then, laughing weakly, he lifted her hand away. She really was something else.

"No, I'm not sick, Big Girl," Wolfwood reassured her. _At least, not in the sense you're thinking of…_

She eyed him suspiciously. "That's exactly what my Middle Big Brother said right before he came down with the toma flu! And he got it bad, too!"

"I'm fine," Wolfwood said, his voice soft but firm.

She didn't respond for a moment, and he wondered briefly if he'd said something he shouldn't have. Milly was a kind soul, someone who cared a lot about others. He felt a twinge of guilt for being so cold with her before brushing it away. He had too many things plaguing his conscience as it was.

"I bet I know what's troubling you!" Milly said suddenly, watching him with a knowing look on her face.

Wolfwood looked at her, a flicker of something crossing his face. _I hope you don't, Big Girl… I really hope you don't._ "Really?"

"Yes, I do," she insisted.

Well, that was ominous. He didn't respond, his face expressionless. What if she _did_ know? Wolfwood had a feeling that Vash might know, simply because of circumstances under which he had found the gunman in that backwater town, carrying the name of "Knives" with him as a token. But, Milly…Wolfwood didn't want her to know. He just didn't.

"You're worried about your kids, aren't you, Mr. Priest?"

_What?_ "The kids?"

"You are, aren't you?" she asked, her tone oddly solemn.

Wolfwood stretched a little, taking another sip of coffee. _Not exactly, but I might as well run with it…_ "Yeah…I guess I am."

Milly nodded. "When did you see them last?"

"A couple months ago _(before I went to find Needle Noggin…)_."

"You miss them."

It wasn't a question, and he couldn't help but notice how certain she seemed when she said it. Wolfwood thought about it for a moment, swirling the black, heavily-scented liquid around absently. Yes, he supposed he did miss them. He worried, too, but not just because of the threat looming over their heads (and his). Wolfwood would have thought about them anyway, wondering what they were doing, how they were doing, just random, seemingly inconsequential, things that would have meant nothing at first glance.

"I do," he said finally, shifting positions slightly, exhaling a small cloud of smoke as he flicked his cigarette away.

"How many kids do you look after?"

"Oh, I'd say around thirty or forty."

Milly's eyes widened. "That many? How come?"

"You'd be surprised how many kids get abandoned," Wolfwood said stonily. "These are rough times, and the ones who suffer the most are the young and the old."

She nodded, looking down at her feet. "I suppose. But it's still sad."

"It is," he agreed.

"So…how do you support them all?" she asked, eyes searching.

Wolfwood shrugged. "Oh, this and that."

"This and that?"

"Yeah."

"Ok."

He looked at her oddly, but Milly merely continued staring at her feet, and to Wolfwood's mind, it felt like her entire demeanor and posture was screaming "I know something you don't!" How in the _hell_ did she do that?

"What are they like?"

He blinked. "What?"

Milly looked at him, bemused. "The children. What are they like?"

"Well…" He couldn't see any harm in telling her. "They're so many of them that it's hard to say. You've got your goofballs _(either completely naïve or hiding behind their humor)_," Wolfwood ticked them off on his fingers, "you've got your weepy ones _(the abandoned kids with nowhere else to go and know they don't)_, you've got the youngsters _(innocents who haven't lived long enough to realize that they're living on a godforsaken clod of dirt)_, and then…"

She watched him curiously. "And then?"

Wolfwood sighed, draining the rest of the beverage from his cup. "And then the older kids _(the ones stuck somewhere between childhood and adulthood, being both and neither at the same time)_. They're the toughest bunch to handle."

Milly sipped at her coffee, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Where do they come from?"

He frowned. "Which ones?"

"The older ones."

Wolfwood closed his eyes, rubbing a crick in his neck. "Well…all over, I guess. I tend to find them in some of the more rundown towns, the ones farthest from the big cities."

"No, no, that's not what I meant…"

He stared at her. "What?"

Milly set down her half-empty mug, meeting his gaze. "I mean, _where_ do they come from?"

Wolfwood's eyes widened, understanding what she was trying to say. "Oh. Well," his brow furrowed, "some I find on the street, you know, just trying to survive. Others have only lost their parents recently. And then," he said slowly, "there are some who come from broken families, broken homes, often abandoned to the care of the stereotypical, irresponsible relative, neighbor, whatever."

She nodded solemnly. "I see."

_Whenever she says things like that, I wonder…_

"So," she continued, as though there had been no pause, "you said that they're the hardest ones to handle. How so?"

Wolfwood was silent for a moment, just thinking. He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, somewhat baffled over how they had gone from talking about coffee to a questionnaire on his orphanage. Not even Needle Noggin had ever inquired much about it, but Wolfwood supposed it was because the guy was too naïve and trusting for his own good most of the time. But Milly…

He sat up a little straighter, staring at the practically untouched meal bar in his hand. "They've seen the worst humanity has to offer. Or lived it. Kindness isn't something they're familiar with so gaining their trust is hard."

She smiled slightly, understanding. "It's worthwhile in the end, though, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Milly looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean?"

Wolfwood stared dolefully at the dying fire, crackling and spitting noisily as shadows danced along the rocky walls. It was disconcerting, eerie almost, how one's perception of things changed so much in the dark. Glancing through the small opening in their shelter, Wolfwood could see that the second sun had sunken almost completely under the horizon. His finger tracing small figures in the sand absently, he spoke, his voice heavy.

"I've taken care of a lot of kids in the past couple years, Big Girl, and I'd like to say every single one of them went on to live happily ever after. But," he took a deep breath, "the fact is that they don't. Some are too far gone, and it's not possible to save them all."

"But…what happens to them?" Milly asked.

Wolfwood shrugged, feeling irritable all of a sudden. "They leave. Become bandits, mercenaries, bar maids, something like that. And then, they most likely end up in the gutter somewhere. Either that, or they get stuck in impossible situations."

She touched his shoulder lightly, then, her expression uncharacteristically complex. "At least you try," she said softly.

He didn't look at her, suddenly finding the interior of his empty cup fascinating for some reason. "That's not good enough."

Milly nudged him a little. "You're too hard on yourself."

"Am I?"

There was a long pause, and Wolfwood wondered if he'd finally shut her up. He didn't like what he was thinking now, and she seemed to be the source of it all. It was unsettling, and he fidgeted some, shoving an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Then, Milly delicately took it from him, smiling at the somewhat mutinous look on his face.

"Cigarettes are bad for the baby, darling," she said quietly, her eyes twinkling.

For perhaps the millionth time in the past several minutes, Wolfwood stared at her, speechless. It wasn't that his voice had failed him, rather, he just couldn't think of anything to say to her. It was disturbing how easily she did that to him. Why, though? Why?

"Oh! Hold on just a sec!"

Wolfwood jumped a little when Milly suddenly leapt up and hurried over to the motorcycle, rummaging through their things. Blinking rapidly, he watched her until she finally called out "Ah HA!" and came back, sliding down next to him.

"Voila!" she said cheerfully, presenting two cups of pudding. "Something for dessert!"

Wolfwood accepted one of the cups he was given wordlessly, mumbling his thanks as he pulled the covering off. Nodding happily, Milly did the same, licking the foil. He watched her for a moment, following suit when he saw her scooping the pudding (mocha chocolate swirl) out with her fingers. Vash and Meryl had most of the silverware.

"Well, at least you'll eat _that_," Milly noted.

He grinned wryly, glad for the change of subject. "I guess you've just got good taste, Big Girl."

"Aw, thanks! Oh!" she exclaimed. "Do you want some more coffee?"

"Sure."

"Ok, give me your cup."

He handed it to her, his eyes following Milly as she leaned across, reaching for the coffee pot. Despite himself, Wolfwood couldn't help but notice that, upon looking more closely, her eyes were very blue, almost clear cut in their unsettling frankness. Then, without thinking, Wolfwood leaned over and kissed her, a warm, soft pressure on his lips, all clumsy fumbling as strange noises rose in his throat. It was oddly frightening…and fascinating at the same time. (1)

Milly stared at him, wide-eyed, as he pulled away, holding his mug and the coffee pot in either hand. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, Wolfwood coughed, looking away.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's ok."

Milly handed him the mug, the contents sloshing about inside. He took it, barely paying attention to what he was doing. She stood then, brushing herself off, looking down at him. Her lips were curled upward, a slight tinge of pink spreading across her cheeks.

"Um…I'm going to bed now. I'll see you in the morning, Mr. Priest!"

Milly scooted away around the flames, busying herself with the bedroll as she rolled it out. Within a minute, she had pulled the covers over her, turning on her side, her back to him. Wolfwood looked down, as if to ask the half-eaten pudding cup: _Why?_

* * *

Milly yawned, sitting up slowly as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She squinted, beams of light streaking through the gaps in the rocks surrounding her as the first of the twin suns began to peak over the horizon. It was a beautiful day, and she greeted it with a grin.

She pushed the covers off of herself and got to her feet, stretching. Milly's brow furrowed then, eyeing the unused bedroll. Hadn't Wolfwood gone to sleep last night? At the thought, she absently touched her lips, tracing them lightly as she began to pack everything up, checking the motorcycle as she did so.

And then Milly saw him, still in the same spot where she'd left him. Tucking their things back in place, she picked her way silently over to him, kneeling down in front of him, brushing a few strands of black hair out of his face. His face was lined, either from lack of sleep or some other torment. She didn't know.

His eyelids flickered, and Milly moved backwards a little, giving him some space. Wolfwood's eyes slipped open then, and he blinked, looking at her. She stared back, feeling a little awkward.

"Ugh…help me up, would you, Big Girl?" he grumbled.

"Oh. Oh, sure!"

Grasping his hand, Milly pulled, yanking him up. Wolfwood grunted, stumbling a little before straightening. Scuffing her shoe in the sand a little, Milly cleared her throat, not exactly sure what to say. Wolfwood, on the other hand, had shoved his hands in his pockets, the aged look on his face gone _(so fast it might not have even existed at all)_, but he still seemed uncomfortable.

"Good morning, Mister-!"

"Listen, Big Girl…about last night…"

"Oh. Oh, don't worry about it!" she laughed, her voice sounding unnaturally loud.

"But-"

"It's ok, really. I…" she took a deep breath, "I liked it."

Wolfwood stared at her, eyes wide. "You…you did?"

"…yes…I did…actually…"

He coughed then, fumbling with his lighter as he stuck another cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Milly shook her head, eyeing the smoke with disapproval. It was a bad habit, but she doubted he'd listen to her.

"So…um, do you want to go?" she asked.

"Oh. Yeah," he said, his expression distracted. "I'll just check the Angelina, and then we'll-"

"It's good to go…"

He looked at her oddly. "It's what?"

Milly nodded. "Yeah. I checked it a few minutes ago. My Middle Big Brother is a mechanic, and he taught me a thing or two. The engine's ok. It just got a little overheated yesterday _(probably because you were pushing it so hard, so fast…)_."

"Ok then."

Wolfwood picked up a couple of his things then, stuffing them into his pack. Then, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, he jerked a thumb in the bike's direction.

"Hop on."

Milly did, clambering onto the motorcycle behind him, her arms wrapped a bit more tightly about his middle this time. Wolfwood glanced over his shoulder at her, his lips quirking upward into a smile.

"Let's go."

* * *

(1) The "kiss" paragraph was co-written (and edited) by Spicy-Obsession (fellow fanfic author).

* * *

So, was it good? Bad? So-so? Share your thoughts with me, won't you? -pushes review button towards the reader- 


End file.
